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Music Festival

February 6, 2009

I was up on the mountain that it was impossible to climb but very easy to drive up. I was going to use some acquaintance’s holiday home. I had to search all around the house for the key. I found seven strangely coloured keys under firewood. Laura and some fat men were having a meeting inside the house. I knocked on the window next to where she was. She told me to knock again softer. None of the keys opened the front door, so I had to wait until one of the fat men came out to let me in; it was a while. When I finally went inside I asked the fat man in pink which key was for the front door. “None of those ones,” he replied, “that one’s for the shutters, that thin one’s for washer, the little one’s for the bedroom…” etc. I was going to throw them away, but he said that they’ll come in handy. “Also, just use the key to the big window to come and go,” he said.
There was going to be a big music festival in the house (which was now a large hall), but Errol Head came in and said that we need to hang out all of the wet washing before it started. I was in charge of socks and underwear.
Sound guys had grey t-shirts on, and since I was wearing a grey t-shirt everybody thought I was a sound guy.
The Dry played a set, but Matthew and Patrick weren’t there, so it was just the drums. I tried to hum the other parts but it didn’t work so well. Finally Matt came onstage after much embarrassment, but he just wanted to play one string because, “it’s minamalism.”

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